Barbeiros

An homage to editing. In only twelve minutes, a long and unhappy coexistence unfurls. Junkkonen makes tangible the melancholy atmosphere that is inherent in her short synopsis: José owns a small barbershop in an old neighbourhood in Porto. Armondo is also a hairdresser. They have been working together for a long time. Their characters do not mix. Just like water and oil. We see José open up his small and dark salon and Armondo shuffle in. In turns, they stiffly and awkwardly give a customer a haircut or a shave. In between, they sink down on a chair, smoke a cigarette and once more leaf through the newspaper. They also kill time by sweeping the immaculate floor and polishing the shiny hairdresser’s gear. The tension between the barbers is tangible, because they never bandy a word and manage to avoid all eye contact. Junkkonen emphasises the repressed irritation by zooming in on viciously flashing scissors or an enormous razorblade that is eagerly whetted on a strip of leather. The fact that these men have merely tolerated each other for years is also demonstrated by a few memories on the wall. Photographs of José and Armondo in their younger years and Jose’s barber’s diploma from 1944. When José closes the shutters at the end of the day, the image turns dark. With a few pointed words, Junkkonen concludes her homage to editing. ‘José de Sousa is 86 years old. He has worked as a barber for 76 years.’